


A Man of Careful Observation

by Bunnibell



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AH crew mentions are brief, M/M, Tags Are Hard, also my first freewood, but that's as bad as it gets, fluffy fluff, my first fic on ao3, not sure about the rating thing i've always been bad at ratings, there's some michael cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:05:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2019183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnibell/pseuds/Bunnibell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although people mark Ray off as unintelligent (he isn’t, not by a long shot, he’s just laidback), Ryan gives him the most credit. Many days of the week, Ray will shout “Freewood” with his hands in the air and excitement in his voice, and every time, someone asks what it means, what it stands for.</p>
<p>He says nothing, just nods at Ryan and gives Gavin a quick pat on the back. Ray has it figured out to the “t”.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man of Careful Observation

**Author's Note:**

> Crap, so, this is my first Freewood, and I'm really only posting this because Ali said to. But here, have some fluffs and stuffs, and ignore any typos and whatnot because I'm a mess when it comes to typing. x:
> 
> You can find Ali on tumblr, too; http://youremylittlemichael.tumblr.com/

Ryan is smiling a lot more these days, he thinks.

 

It’s hard not to, when his job is _fantastic_ and all he has to do beside play video games is edit things here and there, but even harder so when Gavin is around.

 

Gavin is smiling a lot more these days, too, he notices.

 

Ryan is a man of science, a man of educated guesses and careful observation, and studying Gavin has always been a pleasure of his, he admits. He’s unpredictable and yet so _very_ predictable at times, and the Brit’s spontaneous nature always kept him watching.

 

Gavin’s smiles are brighter, wider, and so full of life and innocence and happiness that Ryan often finds his breath caught in his throat and his eyes unable to look away. No one seems to notice, or he prays so, and at the very least he knows Gavin is oblivious as all hell and would never catch on without someone flat out saying something.

 

When Gavin catches him staring he’ll come up with something to say, something that people will brush off as classic Ryan, and his tacit attraction will continue to stay hidden within the recesses of his mind, hidden so deeply that his eyes couldn’t possibly give anything away if someone was looking.

 

Ryan really likes Gavin.

 

He likes to pay careful attention to those he likes, a delicacy on his list of “pros of dating me”. He’s always watched Gavin much more than he’d ever watched the others, his spontaneity kept him amused and glued there, trying to learn everything about Gavin, so much so that he could duplicate him exactly if prompted.

 

He’d learned everything he’d needed to know about everyone else in the company, and what he knew about the others is what they stuck to. He learned what buttons to press on Michael’s bad days, knows of Geoff’s compulsion to lean and rock with the characters in any game he plays, knows no matter _what_ he does, Ray could never be offended; but Gavin was a new mystery to explore every day.

 

And that mystery had only grown recently, Ryan’s found.

 

They can’t share a room without Gavin avoiding his eyes and there are thousands of times where Ryan wonders if maybe he had something on his face or stuck in his teeth, but checks and finds nothing every time. Gavin’s face is also a nearly alarming shade of pinkish-red every time he sees him.

 

He wants to ask why, but Gavin would play innocent and pretend not to know what he’s talking about, all while still not looking him in the eyes. Ryan plays along and pretends not to notice it either.

 

Something hits him during the filming of the Grand Heist video. Geoff is explaining the plan a bit before the camera rolls, giving them a general idea and letting them sit down and get comfortable. Michael sits in the chair opposite Geoff and Gavin sits in the middle, to Michael’s right, Ryan sits next to Gavin.

 

Gavin is incessantly poking Michael in the leg, giggling every time Michael pulls his leg away or bats at Gavin’s hand and Ryan is watching, ignoring the blossoming jealousy in his gut at Gavin’s ease with Michael. It wouldn’t be the first time his mind wandered into the waters of “what if Michael never worked here”.

 

He’s not pining.

 

They’re about to start rolling and Geoff clears his throat. “Are you dickheads ready?” he asks, and Gavin seemingly turns all his attention to Geoff.

 

“Gavin, I swear to fuck,” Michael curses, and Gavin bites his bottom lip as he smiles and Ryan has to look away because _Gavin_. “Fucking,” Michael hops over in his chair a few inches, “bother Ryan!”

 

Ryan’s jaw clenches and he tries to pretend like he didn’t hear Michael, pretend he doesn’t see Gavin look to him with his bottom lip tucked into his mouth as he smiles at Ryan now. He pokes Ryan in the leg about ten times but elicits no reaction and whines that Ryan’s no fun, tries to poke Michael again, and the slap that hits his hand makes him stop.

 

“Jesus Christ,” Geoff says, shakes his head, and rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands.

 

A few more seconds pass and Ryan thinks Gavin’s done, but then his hand is back. He’s not poking him. His hand is moving carefully over Ryan’s leg, a ghost of a touch, like the caress of smoke, until his hand finds Ryan’s beneath the table. His fingers are cold as they slide against Ryan’s own and he sucks in a breath when Gavin gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

 

Ryan squeezes back, firmer, eying Gavin from his peripheral and seeing him looking at Ryan the same way, his grin toothy and wide as he looks at Geoff.

 

Ryan _really_ likes Gavin.

 

“Shit,” Ray says from behind them, and Gavin’s hand falls so quickly, Ryan doesn’t realize it’s gone for another few seconds. “Forgot my water bottle,” Ray finishes, pouts, and pulls his hood over his head.

 

“I’ll get it,” Ryan says, and stands so fast his head nearly spins. He goes back to their office, gets the water bottle off of Ray’s desk, and then stops to take a long breath. He’s going to go crazy, and Gavin’s child-like nature is going to be the reason. Gavin either knows what he’s doing, or he really doesn’t, and Ryan doesn’t know which option makes him feel worse.

 

When he gets back, Jack is in his spot. “Finally,” Michael rolls his eyes. “Let’s get this started.” Ray silently makes grabby hands and Ryan hands over the water bottle without a word, crossing his arms over his chest and standing behind Jack and Gavin, right between their chairs.

 

He watches Gavin closely the entire time.

 

\--

 

A week later, Ryan is still trying to analyze his current situation.

 

Gavin still won’t look him in the eyes, and if he does it lasts no longer than a second, and his face is still unnaturally pink. Ryan tells him twice he should see a doctor. But then it gets worse, and Gavin is giggling at everything he says, standing or sitting a little closer when they film VS or a Let’s Play, and his fidgeting is endless and distracting.

 

He scratches at his cuticles, bends his fingers in every direction that doesn’t hurt, shifts from foot to foot and tugs at his ear, and Ryan doesn’t miss a movement. He’s perplexed, in a word. When Ryan isn’t close by or Gavin doesn’t know he’s around, Gavin acts like normal Gavin; or as normal as that is.

 

But if the younger male were to so much as catch a whiff of Ryan’s scent he would become tense and quiet and so fragile that a word from Ryan would seemingly break him down into a sputtering mess of incomprehensible noises and flailing hands and Ryan really didn’t know what to do anymore.

 

He has friends here, yes, of course, it was impossible to not have friends in such a big company, but no one he was really close to, no one he could rant to when he needed it. He’d thought, many times, of finding Michael and asking him what made Gavin _work_ , but Michael would scoff at him and Ryan needed answers, not any kind of sarcastic response Michael would give.

 

Asking Barbara would be the kick start to a long month of gossip, about how Ryan was asking about Gavin and when Gavin caught wind of it, it would just make more problems that Ryan didn’t need.

 

So he watches from afar, assesses the situation as best as he can, and ultimately comes down to the solution of getting Gavin alone in a room with him for more than five minutes.

 

He thinks for days, trying to find some way to get Gavin to agree to going anywhere with him (Gavin had refused to go to lunch with him the other day, even when Ryan insisted he’d pay for it all), and thinks a strategic move wouldn’t go well for him, Gavin is too spontaneous for strategy.

 

He tries to plan anyway, because Ryan is nothing if not the strategic type, and decides he needs help.

 

Female help.

 

\--

 

Megan Turney is perfect.

 

She’s beautiful, got a great smile, is funny, and can hold a conversation, even with someone who jumps from subject to subject; and Ryan knows a perfect henchman when he sees one.

 

“Are you serious?” she asks, looking at Ryan incredulously. You’d think he’d sprouted a second head.

 

“Absolutely,” he says, and fishes his wallet out of his back pocket. “A hundred bucks, all yours,” he says. He pulls out two fifty dollar bills and waves them in front of her face.

 

They’re sitting at one of the picnic tables in the lunch area, Meg poking carefully at her salad, as Ryan straddles the bench and bribes her with all he’s got. The plan is simple; Meg asks Gavin to join her for lunch at some restaurant nearby, says she has to take a bathroom break, and Ryan swoops in to corner the ever flighty British gentleman.

 

He’s going to get Gavin to talk, even if he has to put him in a hole like Edgar, just to get him to listen. “Done,” Meg says, and smiles, her eyes crinkling as she takes the bills from Ryan’s hand and folds them twice before putting them in her pocket. “I’ll take him to Carl Jr.’s right now,” she says, and Ryan’s smile falters because he was expecting at least _tomorrow_ to be the day.

 

“Now?” he asks, and stands even before she does.

 

“Yeah,” she says, takes one last bite of her salad, and proceeds to toss it out before she leaves.

 

Ryan starts to feel panicked, like he suddenly has no time to get ready, but then stops and realizes he doesn’t need to get ready because he _is_ ready, and now he feels completely out of his own character. He’s nervous, and Ryan’s only been nervous twice before (once when he thought he might not pass eleventh grade, and the other time when he played the Survivors beta game), and it was so unlike him that he had to sit back down.

 

He lets his head fall back and he groans, loud and hoarse, and doesn’t care who hears it.

 

\--

 

Half an hour later, he finds himself sitting in his car sipping cherry coke out of its can, blue eyes locked intently on the couple in the window seat at Carl Jr.’s. He can see Meg smiling, laughing, her hair flirtatiously falling in front of her face so she has to tuck it behind her ear, and Ryan wonders if he actually picked the right person for the job.

 

_He_ wanted Gavin.

 

He can feel his brows pull together tight and his lips press thin before he takes the next sip, watching and waiting for Meg to make her move. It’s only a few more minutes of his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly before Meg finally gets up, and disappears from his view. He gets out of his car at top speed, and probably looks like he’s going to rob the place, he’s so nervous and still a little ruffled.

 

He’s trying to think of something eloquent to say but nothing comes to mind. He’s inside and moving fast across the tiled floor and before he knows it, he’s sliding into the booth across from Gavin. The Brit stops chewing whatever’s in his mouth (but Ryan guesses it might be fries, judging by the considerable amount of them hanging out of his mouth) and his eyes get a fraction wider.

 

“How’s it going, Gavin?” Ryan says, nonchalantly, and steals one of the fries on Gavin’s plate. He pops it in his mouth, chews, swallows, and watches as Gavin’s eyes flit from him to the bathroom door across the dining area to his food, and then finally back to Ryan.

 

“What’re you doing here?” he asks after he swallows. His face is red and he tries not to meet Ryan’s eyes as he speaks. Again. “I’m out to lunch with Meg,” he states, and Ryan just nods.

 

“I’m fully aware of that,” Ryan says. He lets the words hang in the air, lets Gavin try and make whatever sense of them he can, interpret them as he will. “I was hoping I could speak with you.”

 

Ryan’s lips twitch down at his own words. He sounds like he’s about to fire someone, not ask them out, and it makes him breathe in deep and let it out right after. “What about?” Gavin asks, picking at the burger in his hands for a few seconds before he sets it down. “You couldn’t talk to me at work?”

 

“I needed you alone,” Ryan says, too quickly, and he can practically hear Gavin swallow. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he finally says, and Gavin’s hand, poking at a stray fry, stills. There’s a pang of hurt somewhere in his chest but he ignores it. “Why is that?” he asks, and Gavin shrugs almost immediately.

 

“Dunno,” he says, looks out the window, and why won’t he _look at Ryan_. “I’ve got to get on to work and all that, so I’ll go and find Meg—“

 

“She’s gone.”

 

His words seem to glue Gavin to his seat and while Ryan wasn’t originally aiming for the fear tactic, he seems to have ended up here anyway. Gavin looks at him now, eyes afraid and confused and a little panicked, before he looks back out the window and must see Meg’s car gone, because he sinks back into the booth a little. “I can drive you back,” Ryan says, tries a smile, and flags down a waitress when it isn’t returned without force.

 

He’s done a bad thing, he thinks, but tries to look anywhere but at Gavin. He asks for the check, pays for the meal he didn’t eat, because he’s a gentleman, and leaves the building with Gavin in tow.

 

The five minute drive is quiet and tense and his fingers are tapping on the steering wheel nervously the entire way. Gavin listens to ridiculous music, all pop and cheery, and Ryan lets him, even though he prefers classic rock. Because it’s what Gavin wants. When they pull into the parking lot, Ryan makes sure to park away from the door in case wandering eyes find them.

 

“Thanks for the ride,” Gavin says, pulls the handle, and finds the door won’t open. It’s not locked, Ryan knows it’s not, even leans back in his seat to show Gavin he’s unlocking the doors. The Brit is confused and pulling at the handle all he can.

 

Ryan thanks every God for the invention of the child lock.

 

“Gavin,” he says, resting an elbow on his door and propping his head up on his hand. He wants to say something, tell Gavin he’s not leaving without Ryan hearing a proper explanation, but he’s nearly frozen in place when Gavin looks at him.

 

His eyes aren’t unreadable, simply unexpressive, and Ryan stares for a long moment, searching for anything. He finds himself distracted by how they shine, curses at himself for sounding so ridiculously cheesy, and can’t help the breathy chuckle that falls from his lips. He leans across the center console and his right hand runs over Gavin’s cheek, over the slight stubble there.

 

He keeps his touch light in case Gavin reacts badly. He goes until his fingers brush the skin just under Gavin’s ear, through his short hair, until he can grab the hair at the back of Gavin’s head and hold him still.

 

He’s barely leaning in when he sees Gavin pushing forward, and the action takes him by such complete surprise that he stops and lets Gavin close the distance. Almost as expected, the kiss is an awkward bump of noses and lips and Ryan frowns into it.

 

Gavin must feel it because he stops, moves back far enough to not be kissing but not far enough that Ryan can’t feel his breath, warm and smelling oddly fresh, despite him having just eaten. “Sorry,” Gavin says, his voice barely above a whisper, but Ryan thinks he can’t be all that sorry if he’s still as close as he is.

 

Gavin’s kneeling on his seat, both arms holding him up over the console. His eyes are half-lidded but Ryan can see them watching his lips like he’s waiting for more, and Ryan’s smile makes Gavin smile back. “Here, let me—“, Ryan shifts, puts both of his hands on either side of Gavin’s face and angles his head to the left.

 

This time it’s softer, slower. Ryan can feel Gavin’s lips, smooth and nice and warm, and they move in time with one another so that every press of lips is pleasurable. He lets his thumbs stroke Gavin’s cheeks as they kiss and Gavin hums in approval, before one of his own hands finds Ryan.

 

He mimics Ryan’s first movements, letting his fingers trail over Ryan’s cheek and down his neck. Every inch of skin beneath Gavin’s fingers feels fiery and _alive_ and Ryan definitely does not almost whimper at the contact.

 

When they pull apart, Gavin kisses him once, twice, more, before he leans back in his seat. He’s smiling brightly, like he had been weeks ago, and Ryan can’t help but smile back.

 

Because _Gavin_ likes _Ryan_.

 

“You dope,” he breathes, using the back of his hand to hit Ryan’s shoulder. “I’ve been mad about you forever,” he says, smiling wider. “Was wonderin’ when you’d catch on.”

 

For all the times Ryan’s pointed out Gavin being oblivious, he never counted himself under the same category. He always thought himself fairly conscious of the things happening around him. But then he thinks back to the way Gavin’s acted, the way Gavin’s looked at him, and he can see it.

 

Gavin’s overly-chummy nature with other employees at the office is what kept him thinking Gavin’s interest in him was just how he was, and that’s where he left it, because Ryan was never one for self flattery. “Funny,” Ryan says. “I was waiting for you to figure it out.”

 

Gavin throws his head back in laughter and Ryan can’t help but laugh with him, even as Gavin clambers over the console and hugs him around the shoulders. It lasts a few seconds, and then Gavin is back in his own seat, pulling at the handle of the door. “Glad that’s sorted, now let me out of this mingin’ car,” he pouts.

 

Ryan pretends to think about it.

 

\--

 

Ryan is smiling a lot more these days, he thinks.

 

It’s been two weeks since he and Gavin had unceremoniously admitted their feelings for one another and he was soaking up every moment of it. Gavin is back to normal, all flailing limbs and fake words and squawks. Ryan occasionally catches him staring, but they both just smile about it.

 

Gavin’s face still gets red when Ryan’s around, when Ryan speaks to him or addresses him, and he giggles at Ryan’s horrible and perverse banter.

 

Ryan drinks it up like liquid gold.

 

They don’t tell anyone that they’re together, Ryan thinks they’ll figure it out in their own time. Although people mark Ray off as unintelligent (he isn’t, not by a long shot, he’s just laidback), Ryan gives him the most credit. Many days of the week, Ray will shout “Freewood” with his hands in the air and excitement in his voice, and every time, someone asks what it means, what it stands for.

 

He says nothing, just nods at Ryan and gives Gavin a quick pat on the back. Ray has it figured out to the “t”.

 

No one seems to notice Gavin’s irrational behavior, how he’s always blushing and giggling and smiling, they just brush it off because that’s Gavin, classic strange and unpredictable Gavin, and no one notices Ryan’s decrease in abnormal behavior, either. He’s slightly more affectionate, still a little twisted, but has turned his will to kill Gavin in every game possible into helping him in any way he can.

 

Ryan’s definitely smiling more these days.

 

And Gavin is smiling a lot more these days, too, he notices.


End file.
